


Engaging Dragons

by janiejanine



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition, Stargate SG-1
Genre: Alternate Universe, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-14
Updated: 2015-10-31
Packaged: 2018-03-22 20:28:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 1,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3742567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/janiejanine/pseuds/janiejanine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Col. Pentaghast of SG-21 meets Dr. Tethras, folklore expert. It doesn't go well.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This started out as prompted ficlets, and was mostly Varric/Cassandra, but expanded to flesh out the Dragon Age SG-1 universe a bit as prompts for other things came in. Cass/Varric will still be the focus, but now there's more for everyone's enjoyment!

Cassandra moved grimly forward and wondered, not for the first time, what deity she’d pissed off to pull this duty. She should be out there doing something, making a difference, not escorting civilians in their pointless tasks. And “folklore expert”?  _Really?_  This was worse than the damn archaeologists.

As if on cue, her own personal pain in the ass spoke up. “So, Cass—”

“Colonel,” she growled.

“Sorry,” Varric said, hands raised in a conciliatory gesture. “Where are we going?”

“That’s for me to know. You just stay back there, don’t get shot, and shut it until we need you.”

He sighed. “Look,  _Colonel_ , I know I’m not welcome, but you need me. You think I wasn’t surprised when I found out all our fables were true? But since they are, you’re going to want me around. The earliest references to the Morrigan predate the Ulster Cycle, and no one knows more about them than me. You’d probably like her, actually. She struck fear and courage into the hearts of men whenever she appeared on the battlefield. In fact, one time—”

“Tethras.” She waved a hand in front of his face. “Tethras!  _Shut_.  _It_.”

He clamped his mouth shut, looking offended. They walked for several long minutes in silence.

Cassandra fidgeted with her vest. She  _had_ been a bit abrupt. Maybe she’d apologize, later; in spite of herself, she  _really_ wanted to know how that story ended.


	2. Chapter 2

This assignment was never going to end.

Cassandra and the rest of SG-21 had spent the last week tramping through the wilderness, escorting Dr. Tethras from dig site to dig site and watching him examine what seemed like hundreds of identical artifacts. Thus far, there hadn’t been a single sign of anything hostile. She was beginning to suspect they were there simply to provide a captive audience.

She had to admit, the man could weave a tale. The whole team was spellbound. She didn’t blame them; where once she might have scoffed at the sheer improbability of goddesses who turned into crows or men who became giants, the revelations that had come from the Stargates showed that anything could be possible.

The firelight flickered, highlighting the planes of his face. He’d managed to keep his shirt open even under Kevlar. It wasn’t even that impressive, she thought, sneaking a glance at his chest just to make sure, and another for good measure. Perhaps sitting next to him had been a bad idea.

“When Sadhbh refused to marry, she was turned into a deer,” he expounded, waving his cup in the air for emphasis. “She stayed that way for three years, until she found a way to break her curse: by setting foot in the dún of the Fianna. And  _that_ is when she met Fionn mac Cumhaill.” He paused.

“And?” She hadn’t meant to speak–really, she shouldn’t encourage him–but from the sound of it, he was getting to the best part. He couldn’t just  _stop_.

Varric’s eyebrow went up. “And?”

“What then?”

“Then, he took her hand.” His fingers curled around hers. “And he said hello.” Eyes never leaving her face, he pressed a slow, intimate kiss to her palm.

Cassandra’s breath caught.

He grinned up at her. She glared and wrenched her hand away. They may not be on the best of terms, but she did not deserve mockery.

“What was  _that?_ ” she demanded, keeping her voice low.

“You inspire me, Colonel,” he said with a mild shrug. He knew exactly what he was doing, the smug little shit.

“Well, inspire yourself somewhere else.” Her skin tingled where his lips had brushed it, and she resisted the urge to run her fingers over the spot.

“As you wish.” He threw her a mock salute. “So, should I tell you next time I come across something good about warrior queens, or…?”

Annoyance and curiosity warred within her, and finally she grudgingly answered, “Yes.”

“Will do.” He winked, and she made a disgusted noise. 


	3. Chapter 3

Dorian strolled through grim, utilitarian hallways, making his way to the center of the complex. It was some time before he found the door he was looking for. Half the time, he wasn’t sure if he was even going in the right direction, but he strode along as if he knew what he was doing, and no one stopped him.

He turned the corner, and did a double take when he saw the guard.

He was large.  _Firm_. Impressive musculature all around. Rather like a Greek statue, or a professional wrestler.

As Dorian reached the door, he found himself at eye level with his chest. The patch on his shirt read ADAAR.

Dorian looked up at him. “I’m here for the chair.”

“You can make that thing work?” Adaar’s eyes showed a flicker of interest.

“Like magic!” Dorian replied, wiggling his fingers. After years of studying Ancient technology, finding out he possessed the ATA gene had been providential–no need to hunt up test subjects when he could use himself. The chance to study the newly-discovered control chairs was an opportunity he couldn’t pass up.

“Good luck,” Adaar said, and waved him toward the door.

He stole another glance at Adaar’s substantial shoulders as he went through. If this was what the security looked like, this job was going to have some unexpected fringe benefits.


	4. Chapter 4

Cassandra rarely questioned her orders. She had doubts, naturally, on occasion–her superiors were as human as she, and just as fallible. But it wasn’t often that something struck her as a simply terrible idea.

Clandestine meetings with the enemy, she thought as she stepped out of the cafe, coffee in hand, were an  _utterly_  terrible idea.

Waiting for her outside the door was a plain black SUV with a woman at the wheel. “Hawke,” she said, extending her hand as Cassandra slid into the passenger seat.

Cassandra shook it, eyeing her with barely-concealed suspicion. “I’ve never heard of you.”

“I’m usually kept off the books,” she said.

They drove several miles in silence.

“You might know a friend of mine. Varric Tethras?” Hawke offered, in a tone that sounded like it was trying for conciliatory, but fell just short.

“We are acquainted.”

Hawke snickered. “He said you were his biggest fan.”

“Did he.” Cassandra’s lip curled. Of course he had. “Well, you can tell him–”

“We’re here.” Hawke pulled into the parking lot of what appeared to be an abandoned sewage treatment plant.

Cassandra wrinkled her nose. If they had to operate in secret, it could have at least taken place somewhere better-smelling. Although, to be fair, nothing about this little excursion smelled right.

She allowed herself to be led into the bowels of the building, finally stopping at one of the offices, empty except for a table and two rickety chairs. One chair was vacant; the other was occupied by a man, tall, blonde, and unkempt. Her contact.

She took a seat across from him and waited for him to speak.

“You look uncomfortable,” he said.

“I admit I have reservations about meeting with a Goa'uld,” she replied.

“I am  _not_  Goa'uld.” For a split second, his eyes flashed with a telltale glow. “I was not possessed against my will. My symbiote and I work together.”

“Yes. You are…” She consulted her notes and fought to keep the skepticism out of her voice. “Tok’ra. Why have you come to us?”

“We’ve been fighting the Goa’uld for thousands of years, and nothing has changed. Stealth and security have brought us nothing but stagnation. We need something bigger. We need to strike, now, and we need your help to do it.”

“So you came alone? In secret?”

He looked away. “Many of my fellows don’t agree with me.”

“And yet you are here.”

“It needed to be done.” He set his jaw, caught her gaze and held it.

The uneasy feeling lingered, but she no longer thought he was lying outright. There was an earnestness, an intensity about him that was hard to fake.

“We’ll see.” She leaned forward, pen poised. “Tell me about this plan of yours.”


End file.
